


Snatcher's Library

by Dragon_MoonX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, Scabior and Greyback are friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 20,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_MoonX/pseuds/Dragon_MoonX
Summary: A collection of fifty short stories featuring our favorite Snatcher Scabior. Written for the Favorite Character Boot Camp challenge.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Apple

**Author's Note:**

> I accepted a challenge where I was given fifty prompts that I'm to use to write fifty different drabbles, oneshots or short stories about my favorite Harry Potter character. Each chapter will contain a different prompt. So this is going to go on for quite a while and I will be loving every minute of it.

**Prompt 1 - apple**

There were many reasons why Scabior loved apples. The first one being that he enjoyed having a warm bowl of rice pudding with sliced apples in it for breakfast. Especially on cold mornings in the woods when he needed something hot and filling to warm his insides before leaving to track down muggleborns.

Another reason was apple cider. Hard apple cider. Scabior loved the way the sweetness and spices blended together to create a strong yet smooth intoxicating beverage. And when warmed a little it was the perfect treat before bedtime. Just a little something to calm his nerves after listening to the captured muggleborns crying, screaming and begging him not to turn them over to the ministry.

Of course there were also times when Scabior had a little too much apple cider. And not always at bedtime. There were times he drank too much and passed out long before he reached his bed.

One evening after he consumed a particularly large amount of apple cider Scabior couldn't make it to bed and collapsed just as he was walking into his tent. He ended up sleeping where he fell with the lower half of his legs and feet sticking out from under the tent flap as he lay on his back snoring loudly.

Scabior decided one morning that he'd grown tired of keeping camp in the same location. They'd been camped out by the river for nearly a month and Scabior needed a change of scenery. So he ordered his men to pack up their belongings and get ready to leave. It was time to search for a new area to make camp.

While searching for a new place to camp, Scabior came across a wide clearing in the forest dotted with a handful of trees here and there. There was enough open space between the tree for him and all his men to make camp.

But the amount of space available to them wasn't all that made the area so appealing to him. It was spring and Scabior recognized the pink blossoms on the trees that dotted the clearing. These were apple trees in full bloom, their beautiful blossoms attracting bees and humming birds that were drawn in by the fragrant flowers.

Each delicate flower was gently caressed by the fresh spring air, perfuming the area with their aroma. Scabior smiled as he inhaled the sweet smell then announced to the others in his group that he'd found a new place for them to stay.

There would soon be enough apples here to keep Scabior happy for a long time. He could roast them over the campfire, enjoy a bowl of fresh applesauce and even make apple pancakes.

Scabior loved it here and knew that this little apple grove would be his new home for a very long time.


	2. Death

**Prompt 2 - death**

Scabior was no stranger to death. He knew it came in many forms. From his early days as a Snatcher to his time spent in Azkaban, death had been all around him.

He saw what happened to those who disobeyed the Dark Lord's orders, or failed to complete the task he had given them. They were killed instantly. Just a flick of the wrist and a flash of green light and they were gone.

He saw what happened to those who were sentenced to receive the dementor's kiss. Their death was more of a spiritual death, since victims of dementors were left without a soul and empty, void of anything that once made them who they were inside. Perhaps their death was the worst way to die.

He'd seen what happened to those who had been victims of Fenrir Greyback. They died quickly, usually from severe blood loss as they were eaten alive and torn limb from limb. The werewolf could easily make short work of anything that crossed his path.

He'd seen what happened to those who were captured and held prisoner by Bellatrix Lestrange. They died slowly, sometimes after days or weeks of torture, screaming, writhing, begging for death in the end as she laughed in their face. Perhaps death was a merciful release for them after all she put them though.

Now as he raced along the covered bridge, his heart pounding hard against his ribs, Scabior felt the floor give way beneath him and feared that this time death might finally be coming for him.

But Scabior was a fighter, a survivor, resilient and strong to the very end. And he refused to let this be the end of him. He was not ready to meet with death just yet.

There was a wide river beneath the covered bridge. Scabior fell into the river and immediately clung to the nearest scrap of wood from the collapsed bridge that was within reach.

His fingers scrabbling for purchase on the wet wood, Scabior managed to hold on as the current began to move him downriver.

He gazed up into the blazing sky, watching as ashes and embers from the burning bridge cascaded from above, and he laughed. It would take more than that to kill him.

Scabior had seen a lot of death in his lifetime, but tonight was not his time to die.


	3. Bag

**Prompt 3 - bag**

There weren't many things you could do with a bag. Unless of course you put an undetectable extension charm on it. Then there was practically an unlimited number of uses for it.

Over the years Scabior had become rather fond of a black velvet drawstring bag that he often carried around with him. He charmed it so he could carry almost anything he wanted in it, which made his enchanted little bag very useful.

Scabior's favorite use for the bag was for bringing home large amounts of alcohol. As long as he charmed the booze bottles so they'd remain cold, he could keep a dozen bottles of alcohol or more in his enchanted bag, then just hang it up by its drawstring on his bed post so he had a cold drink on hand whenever he wanted one.

One time when he got really drunk Scabior, thought it would be funny to do an impression of the cheap tricks muggles try to pass off as magic. He tied a bunch of his scarves together, stuffed them into his enchanted bag, then with great dramatic flourish he made a show of pulling them out of a bag that by rights shouldn't have room for one scarf, let alone twenty.

"Look at me!" he cried. "I'm a muggle. I like to do dumb shit an call it magic!"

Everyone in camp roared with laughter, finding his act highly amusing.

Scabior also had some rather unusual uses for his enchanted bag. There was a time when Bellatrix had asked Scabior to sample her cooking. He knew Bella was a terrible cook, and to be honest he didn't trust anything edible that she served him. So he snuck the food into his bag while she wasn't looking, all while lying and telling her how good her food was. It was a good thing he did this because the food had come close to burning a hole in his bag.

Sometimes he would find interesting objects in the woods, such as small rocks with pretty colors or shapes and put them in his bag. He picked up a piece of quartz by the lake, a heart shaped rock by the river, some smooth, round rocks, a square rock, and a rock that turned a deep shade of purple when wet.

The bag also came in handy when Scabior came across wild fruit growing in the forest. He collected loads of berries and even some mushrooms, puttng them all in his enchanted bag and bringing them back to camp.

And of course what kind of Snatcher would he be if Scabior didn't use his bag to store the things he stole?

Sabior snatched many things, collecting an assortment of random objects he'd stolen. He stole a silver bracelet, money, a pair of sunglasses, a pair of gloves (one of which he later lost), and even a child's stuffed animal that he brought back to camp for Greyback to use as a chew toy. All of which he kept in his little enchanted bag.


	4. Secret

**Prompt 4 - secret**

Scabior had a secret. One he didn't share with just anyone. And that secret was that he was an animagus.

To be more specific, Scabior was an unregistered animagus capable of turning into a lynx. The fact that he was unregistered was one of the reasons why he kept his ability secret. He also didn't like anyone knowing that he could turn into an animal at will, because then he'd lose the element of surprise when he snuck off through the woods, stalking muggleborns from beneath the cover of the bushes and trees as an animal.

He found his animagus form useful for hunting and tracking muggleborns. He also found it useful for catching fish in the river. All he had to do was take a couple swipes at the fish with his large paws, hook them with his claws, and then bring back to camp a load of fish for dinner.

Scabior enjoyed seeing everyone's surprised and happy expressions when he brought back fish for dinner. His men all wondered how he'd gotten so good at fishing and asked him how he did it. But Scabior wouldn't tell them his secret. He just sat there, smiling and soaking up all the praise and thanks he got for bringing back enough food for a fish fry.

He liked to keep them guessing and make them wonder how he did it. He was enjoying himself far too much to ever reveal his secret.


	5. Love

**Prompt 5 - love**

Was there anyone that Scabior loved? If you were to ask him that question his answer would be simple.

"Why yes, there is someone I love," he would say. "Myself."

"We should all love ourselves to some degree, shouldn't we?" said Scabior. "You can't learn to love someone else until you learn to love yourself first. Self love is very important." He then added jokingly with a grin on his face, "I like to love myself with a bottle of lotion an some tissues."

Of course Scabior didn't always have to resort to such methods for pleasure. Being the attractive man that he was Scabior often had his way with several women, sometimes all in a single night.

Love was something Scabior was certainly capable of. If given the chance he could be very passionate and sensual, knowing all the right ways to love and pleasure a woman. He was skilled in the art of making love, and one could say that he had loved many women. But as for being in love with someone, that was something he'd yet to experience.

Scabior didn't want to fall in love. He wouldn't allow himself to develop those kinds of feelings for someone. He knew that showing affection for someone in his line of work was dangerous, and brought with it the risk of his chosen female being murdered.

It wasn't safe to love someone when you were a Snatcher, when the Dark Lord could threaten to harm the one you loved. Voldemort might have been incapable of having feelings for others, but Scabior was not the same. Therefore he decided early on in his career that he wouldn't become romantically involved with anyone.

Scabior felt that any woman he truly loved deserved better than that. They deserved more than a life where they had to constantly worry about whether or not they were going to get killed in their sleep.

Perhaps after the war was over, and if he survived all the trials of the war that lie ahead of him, Scabior would try finding someone he liked and start a relationship with them. But until then this was as close as he could get to being in love.


	6. Hate

**Prompt 6 - hate**

Sometimes it was easier to hate than love. And what were some of the things that Scabior hated?

He hated when he lost control of Greyback and the vicious werewolf killed and ate one of their captive muggleborns. This always resulted in a lot of unpleasant cleaning up afterwards, as well as a cut in his pay every time he lost one of his prisoners to "canine disobedience", as Scabior called it.

Scabior still remembered the first time this happened. He had to explain to Umbridge how there was a bit of an accident and he'd lost one of his prisoners.

"And what kind of an accident was there?" asked Umbridge in that excessively perky, high pitched voice of hers. A voice that feigned sweetness in a vain attempt to disguise the twisted person she really was inside.

That was something else that Scabior hated was Umbridge and the sound of her annoying voice. Her voice grated on his nerves worse than listening to fingernails scraping on a chalk board, worse than a thousand screeching banshees with bullhorns attempting to sing.

Scabior once compared Umbridge's voice to being like a bathtub full of cats gargling razorblades while tumbling down a flight of stairs in a rusty shopping cart. Nothing hurt his ears worse than listening to Umbridge talk.

"Well..." Scabior began, hesitating as he ran a hand back through his red streaked hair. He looked over at Greyback, who was standing next to him, wearing a look on his face like someone who had overeaten on thanksgiving and was on the verge of being sick. "You see there was a bit of a...uh, canine disobedience - "

Umbridge cut him off in mid sentence.

"Canine disobedience?" she snapped, her shrill voice growing higher by the second. "What exactly do you mean by that? Explain yourself!"

Scabior didn't have a chance to explain, for at that moment Greyback doubled over and vomited all over the floor. Bits of bloody clothing and even parts of a shoe spattered the floor, along with chunks of flesh and even an undigested finger or two.

There was a brief pause as Umbridge stared at the runny puddle of human remains the werewolf had expelled onto the floor. Then she screamed, "Get him out of here! Get out! GET OUT, NOW!"

Scabior grabbed Greyback by the arm and practically ran with him out of Umbridge's office.

"Dammit, Greyback! 'Ow many times do I 'ave to tell you to chew your damn food?"

"I'm sorry, Scabior," the werewolf apologized, his stomach still gurgling loudly.

"Forget it. It's over with. Although next time you ought to try throwing up on 'er instead."


	7. Pain

**Prompt 7 - pain**

It was pain the likes of which he'd never experienced before that woke Scabior from his sleep one night.

Rolling over in bed, he felt a throbbing ache in his upper jaw that seemed to pulse in time with his heart. He held his cheek and groaned. Scabior had a toothache.

There were no dentists in the wizarding world. The only thing he could do was wait until morning when the stores were open, then go in and buy a tooth healing potion. But he didn't want to wait until morning. And the pain was so intense he doubted if he'd be able to get back to sleep.

If only he had a pain relieving potion on hand. It wouldn't eliminate the cavity in his aching tooth by magically removing the decay and restoring his tooth to its original healthy state. But at least it would ease his pain for a while so he could go back to sleep until morning when the stores opened.

"Something 'as to be open now," he muttered thickly around the swelling in his jaw. And with that he got out of bed, got dressed, and headed out to see if he could find a place that was still open at one in the morning.

Scabior soon discovered that none of the stores were open. All the regular businesses were closed, the store owners closing up shop and heading home for the evning.

"I can wait until morning," he said, lying to himself as a particularly painful throb made him wince. He held his cheek, gazing into the dark windows of the nearest store. "I'll be fine. I can 'andle this."

Unable to sleep, Scabior began to walk the streets. While he was walking, he took some time to think about his current situation.

By rights he should have expected this to happen. His wisdom tooth on the upper left side of his jaw was chipped and broken. It had come in wrong and was bound to begin rotting eventually. He knew he should have bought a tooth healing potion a long time ago. But between the war, his work as a Snatcher, the responsibility of leading his men and making sure Greyback didn't eat everyone they captured, it had slipped his mind.

There was only one thing left to do, and that was head to the nearest pub and drink until he could no longer feel his face. The pubs were always open late even when everything else was closed.

Scabior staggered out of the pub two hours later, so drunk he could barely see straight. How he managed to apparate back to camp without splinching himself he didn't know.

He stumbled into his tent, his vision swimming as the room spun around him. He saw his bed and reached towards the bedpost, hoping to steady himself if he could just hold onto something.

He took another step forward, his fingers grasping thin air as he reached for the bedpost. He miscalculated, missing the bedpost by several inches. Scabior then fell forward, striking the headboard and collapsing in an unconscious heap across the bed.

When he came to the next morning, the first thing Scabior noticed as his senses slowly returned was that he had an awful headache. There was a swollen lump on the side of his head, and an odd metallic taste in his mouth.

It was blood he tasted. Scabior ran his tongue over his teeth, and nearly screamed when the tip of his tongue touched the edges of the raw, gaping hole in his gums.

The pain was so great that, for a moment, he feared he might pass out again. Scabior then looked down and saw blood staining his bedsheets. There was so much blood it was a wonder he hadn't bled to death. And there in the middle of the soaking wet bloodstain was the chipped and blackened molar that had caused him so much pain.

Scabior couldn't help but smile, relief flooding through him now that his sore tooth was gone. He was glad it had ended this way, because that one tooth had been giving him nothing but trouble since it first came in. He was glad to be rid of it and all the pain it had brought him.


	8. Horror

**Prompt 8 - horror**

It was a dangerous risk letting a werewolf into his band of Snatchers. But Scabior didn't really have much of a choice. The Dark Lord practically forced Greyback on him, ordering Scabior to make him a member of the Snatchers.

"An wha am I supposed to do with a werewolf?" Scabior asked.

The Dark Lord turned to the head Snatcher, his crimson eyes alight with malicious flame.

"I'm sure you can find a use for him," he told Scabior. "And if not then I'm quite certain he can find a use for you as his next meal."

Scabior looked back at the werewolf who curled his upper lip, baring his yellowed teeth and growling at him.

This was not a position Scabior wanted to be in. He was standing between two people who could easily kill him. And the situation was only going to get worse. Much worse.

It was the first night of the full moon and Greyback had removed himself from the Snatcher's campsite, leaving before the moon rose and heading out into the deepest, darkest corner of the woods, far away from the others. But he hadn't gone far enough, and sometime during the late hours of the night he found his way back into camp.

Scabior awoke with a start to the sound of someone screaming. The terrible bloodcurdling screams of agony were coming from one of the tents in camp. Even at a distance he could hear the fearsome snarling as some beast tore into one of his men.

"No..." Scabior breathed, his heart stilling momentarily in his chest as pure terror gripped his insides. "Greyback!"

He threw the covers off, dashing outside in nothing but his plaid pajama bottoms. Once outside his gaze immediately fell upon the remains of a tent across from his, its sides torn open and fluttering in the cold wind. Blood spattered the thick canvas, claw marks shone where the beast had made its entrance, and even more of the warm crimson fluid was spilling out in thick streaming rivulets upon the earth.

And there was Greyback standing over the fallen Snatcher, devouring his flesh as he tore the meat in large bleeding strips from the bone.

The other Snatchers had already fled the scene, disapparating the instant they passed beyond the enchantments on the campsite. Now it was just Scabior alone with the hungry creature.

Scabior stood still, unable to run or turn away, his gaze transfixed on the gruesome sight before him. Every nerve and fiber in his being was screaming at him to run. But somewhere along the line the message to run was lost as incredulous shock and horror kept him rooted to the spot.

The beast turned, blood dripping from his fangs and soaking into the fur on his chest, spying Scabior across the campsite. This was it. It was time to either run or die.

There wasn't enough time to get beyond the apparition boundary surrounding the campsite. Greyback would have him for sure if Scabior tried to escape that way. The only other option was to try getting up into the tree that stood halfway across camp. But could Scabior make it there in time?

Sprinting across the bare dirt Scabior ran and took a flying leap into the pine tree's lower branches. The werewolf was already charging towards him, snarling and barking as blood and saliva dripped from its jaws.

The beast's claws tore at the tree, shredding and tearing the bark from the tree in strips. It was getting closer, snapping its jaws at Scabior's heels as it tried to climb up the branches into the tree.

Scabior's heart was pounding as he climbed up through the branches, higher and higher. He chanced a look down and saw that the werewolf was still close as it thrashed and clawed its way towards him.

Clinging to a thick branch with one hand Scabior withdrew his wand from a pocket in his pajama bottoms and fired a stunning spell at Greyback. The spell didn't have much of an effect on the werewolf, but it was enough to knock Greyback out of the tree.

The werewolf went sailing through the air, landing hard on its back with a shrill yelp as it struck the ground. This was enough to give Scabior the time he needed to magically sever the lower branches from the tree, preventing Greyback from climbing up after him.

Its great claws scraping against the earth, the werewolf rolled over and pushed itself onto its feet. It shook its massive furry head then turned back to the tree Scabior was in. The head Snatcher was up too high for him to reach, and with the lower branches cut from the tree Greyback would have to give up plans for having seconds for dinner that evening.

Growling in defeat, the werewolf turned and went back to its meal in the ruined tent nearby. There was nothing Scabior could do but watch helplessly as the werewolf continued to dine on one of his men, and in his heart he prayed that he would never bear witness to such a gruesome and horrific scene ever again.


	9. Books

**Prompt 9 - books**

Despite what some people think the Snatchers are not an uneducated bunch of idiots. They could all read and write, and Scabior had a decent sized collection of books that he kept in a trunk at the foot of his bed.

The only one who was less inclined to read was Greyback, who mostly just chewed up and shredded Scabior's copy of The Daily Prophet if the head Snatcher didn't get to it quickly enough first thing in the morning.

Scabior's collection of books mostly consisted of advanced conjuration spell books. He also had a book on werewolves to better help him learn how to cope with living with Greyback. Emphasis on the word "had". That was the first of his books that Greyback shredded. Ever since then Scabior decided that, in order to keep his books safe, he would keep them locked away in his trunk at all times when he wasn't reading them.

However there was more than one reason why Scabior kept his books locked away. Being the typical male wizard that he was, Scabior also owned several erotic novels. And because they were made in the magical world, these book contained moving illustrations for the reader's enjoyment.

One morning Scabior stopped by an adult book store in Diagon Alley. He'd been reading a long running series called To Ride A Silver Broomstick. He'd reserved a copy of the latest book in the series which was supposed to have arrived in stores a month ago. And since he hadn't received an owl with a note telling him that his book had come in so he could pick it up (it cost more to have it delivered by owl so he went the cheaper route of picking it up himself) he decided to make a trip to the book store to see what the hold up was.

Upon entering the book store he was surprised to see Lucius Malfoy browsing through the store's selection of magazines.

"Lucius, wha are you doing 'ere?" asked Scabior, sounding surprised to see his old friend.

He walked over to the blond aristocrat, a wide grin on his face as he clapped Lucius on the shoulder.

"You're the last person I would 'ave expected to see 'ere, Lucius."

Lucius started, quickly closing the magazine he had open in his hands and put it back on the shelf.

"Oh, good heavens, no! I would never read those types of books."

"Then wha are you doing 'ere?" asked Scabior, raising an eyebrow and eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well..." Lucius began hesitantly. "I uh, I was looking for something Narcissa might like. You know women and their girly magazines that are filled to the brim with beauty tips and relationship advice. I just thought I'd surprise her by purchasing a few of them for her. I wouldn't lower myself to reading the horrendous filth they sell here. I mean no offense to you, of course! It's just that I - "

"Right, Lucius," said Scabior, cutting him off in mid-sentence because he was rambling now. "Sure."

He knew that Lucius was reading the books in the store. Why would he be here if he wasn't? That story about buying magazines for Narcissa didn't fool him one bit.

Scabior approached the counter and asked the wizard behind the counter why he hadn't received notification that his book had come in yet.

"I'm sorry, sir," the wizard behind the counter said. "But we received a large order recently where someone purchased every book in the series. We only had a set number of reserved copies of your book, and I'm afraid the last copy was included in the order."

"Wha? I reserved my copy over a month ago!" Scabior exclaimed, astounded by the news. "'Ow could someone just walk in 'ere an take my copy like tha?"

"There was a great deal of money involved, sir," the wizard behind the counter explained. "Far more than the average price of having a single copy reserved in advance."

At this Lucius picked up another magazine, ducking behind it in an attempt to hide himself from view.

Scabior couldn't believe it. All this time he'd been waiting only to be told he couldn't have his book because someone with a lot of money had paid off the store owner to buy his copy of it.

"We should have another shipment in within two to three weeks," the wizard behind the counter said.

"Forget it," said Scabior, turning around and starting to leave. I'm taking my business somewhere else!"

Lucius lowered the magazine, peeking over the top of it as he watched Scabior storm out of the building. He then hurried over to the counter.

"You have my order, correct? From what I heard the complete set has finally arrived."

"Yes, mister Malfoy," said the wizard behind the counter. "I'll bring you your books right away."


	10. Chess

**Prompt 10 - chess**

It was a bright and sunny day in the forest. Scabior had set out a chess board on a wide flat rock outside his tent and he and Greyback were going to play a game of chess in the warm spring sunshine.

"What do you mean you've never played wizard chess before?"

"Just wha I said, Greyback. When I was younger I mostly played exploding snap. I was the school champion for three straight years with exploding snap, patience snap an the regular match version of the game."

"Then why bother trying to learn how to play it now?"

"Because I thought it might be fun to learn something new."

"Right." Greyback shifted slightly in his seat, carefully studying the pieces he'd set up on the board.

There was a long pause.

"Uh, Scabior..."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever heard the phrase 'you can't teach an old dog new tricks? '"

Scabior sighed, knowing exactly what the werewolf was getting at.

"I don't really know how to play chess either," Greyback confessed, looking up at Scabior. "I was never much of a board games type of person. I mean look at me. Do I look like the type of person who sits around playing board games?"

"No," Scabior said simply.

There was another long pause.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Greyback.

"'Ang on a second," said Scabior. "I think I 'ave an idea. You know 'ow to play checkers, right?"

"Yeah," Greyback said at length. "What about it?"

Scabior drew his wand and moved it in slow circles over the chess board. Pictures magically appeared on some of the squares. Some of the pictures were of a bomb with a lit fuse, others shown a picture of a crown. There were also pictures of a bullseye, a shield, and some glittering sparkles in the squares.

"This is something me an my brother used to do as children," said Scabior. "Nither one of us could figure out 'ow to play chess. So I started charming the board to make it more interesting since we couldn't play it right.

"The squares with bombs on them are dung bombs. Land on one of those an your chess pieces explodes. A crown means you instantly get crowned king like in checkers. Bullseyes represent the killing curse. Land on tha an you can remove, or rather kill, any of your opponent's pieces on the board. Sparkles are apparition squares. You can move the piece tha lands on it to anywhere on the board. An the shield is of course a shield charm. Land on tha an your piece can't be jumped or killed by the killing curse for three turns.

"The pictures on the board change every so often. So if you dont reach a desired picture in time it may vanish before you get there."

Greyback looked fairly impressed with this setup. This was a new way to play the game that he'd never seen before, and he had to admit it looked like fun.

"So we're playing checkers with chess pieces?" he asked, pointing to the board.

Scabior nodded, smiling at the werewolf.

"This is chess an checkers with magic spells," he said.

"Alright," said Greyback. "Let's give it a go. I'm up for a couple games of this."


	11. Journal

**Prompt 11 - Journal**

Like most people Scabior kept a journal. He'd been keeping one for several years since he was a teenager, and over time he had filled up many books with the recordings of his daily life.

The books he used for his journal were small. Small enough that he could slip one of them in his pocket. This made them quite convenient and easy to carry with him while traveling. For Scabior had always enjoyed spending his time in the forest even before he became a Snatcher, sitting in the shade of a tree by a lake or stream, relaxing and writing down his thoughts in his journal.

One day while Scabior was packing his belongings and preparing to move camp, one of his men thought it would be funny to snatch one of Scabior's journals and replace the book Greyback had been given by the ministry that contained the names of wanted muggleborns with the journal.

Later in the day after they'd set up camp in a new location and went in search of more muggleborns to snatch, Scabior and his men rounded up a witch and two wizards, and that's when the trouble started.

Scabior told Greyback to check their names in the book. When the werewolf took the book out of the pocket in his black robes he immediately knew that something was amiss.

"What's this?" asked Greyback, holding up the journal for everyone to see.

Scabior looked over at the werewolf and saw him holding his journal.

"Tha's mine, Greyback. Give it 'ere.

There werewolf grinned, opening the journal and chuckling as he began flipping through the pages.

"Greyback!" Scabior snapped, anger rising in his voice as he became impatient with the curious werewolf. "I said give it 'ere!"

"Hold on a second," said Greyback, still wearing a wolfish grin on his face. "I just want to have a quick look."

Scabior reached for his journal and tried to snatch it from Greyback's hands. But the werewolf was much taller than he was and managed to hold the journal up high, just out of Scabior's reach, as he began reading aloud from it.

"Listen to this," said Greyback. "'June fifteen, went out to find a prostitute last night. There's this lovely woman I've seen in Nocturn Alley. I hear she's good but she charges a lot of money. Money that, until recently, I haven't had.

'I figure she must be good if she charges such high prices. The more expensive ones usually are. Or at least that's what my previous experiences have taught me.'"

At this a few of Scabior's men started snickering and chuckling. One of them playfully elbowed the other in the side, laughing as he said to the man next to him, "That's not always true, mate."

Greyback continued reading.

"'I brought my bag of gold - '"

"He paid gold for this woman?!" one of the Snatchers exclaimed suddenly, interrupting Greyback. "How expensive is she?"

"Shut up and let me finish!" Greyback snarled fiercely.

"That's what Scabior told her," one Snatcher said to another. "He said, 'I ain't payin' ya t' talk, woman! Now shut it before I turn ya around an shove it down your throat!'"

"'I brought my bag of gold to Nocturn Alley,'" said Greyback, continuing where he left off, "'only to discover after paying this woman that she wasn't a female at all. She was a man.

'He got pissed at me when I decided to snatch my money back and run. Turns out this bastard could run faster than I can, and he was wearing high heels. If we had met under different circumstances I might have asked him to join my lot since he's the only person I know aside from Greyback who can outrun me.'"

By the time Greyback had finished reading nearly every one of the Snatchers was laughing hysterically at their leader's misfortune.

Scabior, now enraged at Greyback's reading of a private and embarrassing moment from his journal, fired a hex at hex werewolf, knocking him to the ground as the book went sailing out of his hands and back to its rightful owner.

He stood over Greyback, glaring down at him with fury blazing in his eyes.

"Crucio!" Scabior shouted, aiming his wand at the fallen werewolf.

In an instant everyone stopped laughing as Greyback thrashed and writhed on the ground, screaming in agonized torment.

"If any of you 'ave any bright ideas about stealing an reading from my journal, I'd strongly advise you to stay the 'ell out of my private business!" Scabior said to the members of his group. "Unless of course you want to end up like Greyback 'ere."

Needless to say that was the last time anyone ever tried reading from Scabior's journal. After that they decided it was best to leave his private writing alone.


	12. Art

**Prompt 12 - art**

"Are you sure this is considered art, Scabior?" Greyback growled in his gruff voice. "I'm not so sure everyone would agree with you."

Scabior had gone out that morning after getting paid and spent a little of his hard earned money on a painting of a nude woman. He then stuck the painting to the canvas of his tent with a simple charm and invited Greyback inside to see his new work of art.

"What do you know about art?" Scabior asked. "Your idea of artwork is using your victim's blood as finger paint."

Greyback chuckled darkly and grinned. "Now that's what I call making an abstract painting."

"Then I guess we can both agree tha everyone 'as a different interpretation of wha is an wha isn't art."

"You just want something to look at while you wank off."

"Tha's not why I bought this!" Scabior insisted, although to be honest the thought had crossed his mind at least once since he brought the painting home. "Try looking more closely at it. Can't you see the artistic beauty of it?"

In the center of the painting stood a young woman with blondish brown hair. She was completely nude, standing in front of a dark lake with the full moon shining above, reflecting its silvery light on the surface of the water.

Long spirals of twisting vines and leaves bordered the painting, with images of the four phases of the moon in each corner of the painting.

Above the nude woman the night sky was full of stars, and in some places the twisting galaxies wove themselves into the trailing vines that were dotted here and there with plump bunches of ripe purple grapes.

The image of a howling wolf shown beside the moon as the creature sung its song to the infinite heavens above.

"You know what I see when I look at this?" asked Greyback. "I can see that wolf coming down out of the sky. He's going to come down and eat the naked broad by the water."

"No, no, don't say tha. You're ruining it."

Greyback shrugged. "Well, you asked me for my opinion, Scabior. I'm just telling you what I see."

"Does everything 'ave to be about killing an eating people with you?"

"Does everything have to be about naked women with you?"

"She is not naked, she is nude. In order to know the difference between erotica and pornography, you must first know the difference between naked an nude."

Greyback started laughing.

"An when you know the difference between the two," Scabior continued, ignoring the werewolf who was now positively howling with laughter, "you can see the beauty in this fine work of art."

By now Greyback had doubled over, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes as he laughed until his sides hurt and he was nearly out of breath.

"Erotica and pornography?" he gasped, wiping his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. "It's the same damn thing, Scabior! Same damn thing."

Scabior sighed. It looked like Greyback just didn't appreciate the beauty of fine art.


	13. Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Ron wasn't with them in the movie when Scabior smelled Hermione's perfume, but I thought it would be funnier to have him there commenting on everything. And if this doesn't give fuel to the Scabmione shippers then I don't know what will.

**Prompt 13 - midnight**

In the midnight hour when most people were asleep Scabior was awake. He was far too busy entertaining the lovely female he'd brought home to sleep.

He was quite good at pleasing women. Several times she called his name, begging him for more, which he gladly gave her until he was completely spent, collapsing beside her in bed.

Scabior always had the most fun after dark when the hour was late. It wasn't unusual for him to stay up well past two in the morning. But midnight was a magical time. That was when the fun began.

One particular incident that occurred at midnight, and would not be soon forgotten, was the time Scabior had lost a bet with Greyback. Because he'd lost the bet, Scabior had to take off all his clothes and streak naked through the forest at midnight.

"Come on, Scabior," Greyback said, laughing as he slapped the head Snatcher on the back. "It's not like anyone is going to see you. We're out here in the middle of nowhere."

His men laughed as he removed his clothes and stripped down to his birthday suit. Even if there was no one around it was still a serious blow to his dignity.

With a final glance over his shoulder Scabior took off, running downhill and off into the deeper parts of the woods.

Meanwhile Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting around the campfire outside their tent in the woods. They were discussing horcruxes, where to find them and what they might be, when they heard footsteps rustling the leaves some ten yards from their campsite.

Harry froze, straining his eyes to see as he peered out into the dark. Ron anxiously looked from Harry to Hermione as he whispered, "What's that? Who's making that noise?"

Hermione shushed him, drawing her wand as she slowly crept towards the edge of their campsite. If her wards proved to be effective no one would be able to see them or their camp. They would pass right by without even noticing they were there.

As she stood gazing into the darkness that surrounded them, she could just make out the shape of a figure in the distance. And whoever it was was getting closer by the second.

"Harry..." Hermione said at length. "Remember that band of Snatchers that came through here two nights ago?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Remember the one who smelled my perfume?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, he's back. And he isn't wearing any clothes."

They were all stunned into silence as Scabior ran past, naked as the day he was born.

Of course the head Snatcher didn't notice them. He didn't see them all standing there staring at him with their mouths open in shock.

"Blimey, Harry," said Ron. "There's naked Snatchers in these woods!"

"That's it," said Harry. "Hermione, Ron, gather your things. We're leaving. Now."


	14. Time

**Prompt 14 - time**

Time was a strange thing. The very concept of it, how it seemed to grind to a hault during troubled moments in our life and breeze past when we're enjoying ourselves. Time was a mystery, which is probably why it was being studied in The Department of Mysteries.

Not much was known about time or its origins, about time travel and the dangers of using time turners. Time itself truly was an enigma. Some believed that time was an illusion. For Scabior, who was currently serving a sentence in Azkaban, there was no time as one day blended seamlessly into the next.

He'd lost track of time in Azkaban. If he were in a muggle prison, he would at least be able to see the trees outside, or people passing by on the streets. The changes in the colors of the leaves and in the people's clothes would give him an idea what season it was.

But out here on an island in the middle of the ocean, there was nothing to indicate the passing of time or the changing of seasons. Just endless waves crashing against the rocky shoreline, darkened skies, and ominous clouds in bruised shades of grey and black that blocked out the sun.

The dawn of a new day did little to dispel the darkness that surrounded him. A perpetual fog clung to the island, blocking out what little sunlight pierced the clouds. There were times when Scabior would gaze out the bars on his window into bleak nothingness, into an unyielding haze and shadowy mist, bordered by the black sky above and the cold waters below.

There was nothing separating the blackness of the clouds from the deep, dark waters. Like the days that passed within these ancient walls, everything here bled together in a seemingly endless mass of torment, misery, withered hope and desperation.

There as nothing to indicate the change in seasons. Summer was just as cold as winter, and Scabior was always chilled to the bone from the deep, penetrating cold that lingered over the island. There were many nights he lie awake on his cot, shivering and miserable, too cold to fall asleep.

These nights were the longest, when sleep eluded him and the flow of time seemed to stop altogether. Each minute contained a year's worth of time, and every hour felt like a lifetime.

Nightmares haunted him even during the hours he spent awake, lying there cold, shivering, staring out the bars as dark shreds of clouds drifted past the moon on winds as cold as the frozen hand of death.

On nights like these Scabior would lie awake and wonder if he'd ever escape this prison. He longed to feel the warmth of the sun on his face, to feel the wind blowing his hair as he returned to the forest that he loved, the forest he called home.

He wanted to run through the trees again, embracing the freedom he once had before being locked away in this nightmarish hell hole. But in here there was no freedom, no sunlight, no time. Even time had fled these walls, leaving Scabior with nothing but his own tormented thoughts as he lie awake in his cell, thinking back to the better days when he was free.


	15. Adventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: special thanks to Anna Fay for giving me some good ideas for this chapter.

**Prompt 15 - Adventures**

There was one thing Scabior always wanted to do. He wanted to be a musician. He wanted to start a band, become famous, get rich, and take his fans on a musical adventure as he played for them.

He'd had this dream since he was a child, and he clung to it even when he was in prison. He thought, if he could ever get out of here, that he could try starting over. Live out his dream and try having the life he wanted before everything went wrong.

He wouldn't give up. He kept his dream alive in his heart, waiting for the day he would be free.

Sometimes, when exhaustion overtook his tired body and he finally entered the world of his dreams, Scabior saw himself on stage preforming for his fans. He heard them cheering for him. Some of them sung along with him, knowing all the words by heart.

He would travel from one major city to the next, seeing the sights and signing autographs for his fans. His wealth and fame grew. It was truly the adventure of a lifetime.

He'd become a rock star. And none of these muggles would even realize that he wasn't from their world. To them, he would appear as a regular person. The bright red steak in his hair and mismatched clothes would all be part of his look. No one would ever suspect that he was actually a wizard, bringing some magic into the muggle world and making them think it's just a performance.

Then he'd wake up, and the harsh reality would set in. He was alone in his cell, far from the world of fortune and fame that he longed for in his dreams.

It took some time, but Scabior was eventually released from prison as the Dark Lord gained control of the Ministry of Magic. However he was still far from realizing his dream. And just because he'd been released didn't necessarily mean that he'd regained his freedom. For now he was being put to work by the Ministry tracking muggleborns.

Before he knew it, Scabior had been hauled out of prison along with several other inmates. They were brought before the Minister of Magic, and those that were deemed fit and strong enough to serve the Ministry were separated into groups called Snatchers. Those who were incapable of rising to the challenge were given to the dementors.

Scabior was chosen to be the leader of a group of Snatchers. And so began another adventure, one that was very different from the one he imagined in his dreams.


	16. Honor

**Prompt 16 - honor**

Being the leader of the Snatchers wasn't easy. It was a big responsibility, looking after a group of men and a homicidal werewolf. Scabior had to organize everything. It wasn't about sending his men running blindly off into the woods. It was about having a plan, about who would run, who would intercept their target, and who was best at long range attacks.

He had to evaluate everyone in his group, noting their strengths and weaknesses. Then decide who was best for each job and assign their tasks accordingly. Snatching was also about teamwork. And how well the team preformed depended on their leader.

On the surface the Snatchers looked like nothing more than a rugged band of ruthless thieves, stealing and kidnapping people wherever they went. Sometimes their search for muggleborns would lead them to raiding villages, destroying homes and leaving blazing ruins in their wake.

All of this took careful planning and thought. Scabior and his men never acted on a whim, or rushed into something without a plan. Their leader was highly intelligent and thoroughly cunning. He carefully calculated their every move, taking time to think things through and consider every possible option before giving orders to his men.

In time his men came to look up to him. He gained honor and respect, for he was a strong wizard with exceptional leadership qualities. Those that were loyal to Scabior respected him. And those that were not feared him.

But it wasn't just these qualities that made him a good leader. He was charismatic, with a lot of flare and attitude. He had the courage to stand up, tell it like it is, and would not back down when confronted by someone. And he knew how to use his charm to win the hearts of ladies.

He didn't care if someone had a problem with him. He would tell them off in an instant, right to their face. He didn't sugarcoat things, and he definitely wasn't in the business of kissing ass to get what he wanted.

All of these things made Scabior who he was - a leader, a fighter, and ladies' man. He had pride, honor and respect...not to mention one hell of a hangover when his time spent drinking and having sex all night finally caught up to him.

He'd roll over, falling out of bed and landing on his face on the floor, surrounded by several empty bottles of firewhiskey. This type of lifestyle wasn't easy. But he didn't care. Scabior loved it. And he wouldn't have it any other way.


	17. Cars

**Prompt 17 - cars**

Muggles had many strange inventions, such as cell phones, televisions and laptops. But the most unusual muggle invention of them all was the car.

Scabior had different names for different types of vehicles. He knew the word "automobile" and had adapted it to fit the many kinds of vehicles that muggles had.

To him cars were "cartomobiles". Trucks were "truckomobiles". And vans were "vanomobiles". His time spent snatching muggleborns had taught him about the different modes of transportation muggles used, because not all of them were on foot when he snatched them.

One group of muggleborns he'd snatched had been traveling by car when he found them. It was winter, and they'd driven to a remote campground in the woods, far away from any traces of civilization. There wasn't anyone around this time of year, and they thought that the abandoned campground was a good place to hide out for a while. That is until they were caught by Scabior and his band of Snatchers.

Before he brought them into the ministry, Scabior stopped to take a closer look at the car they'd been driving. It was such a strange thing to him. He never knew what to make of these bizarre metal contraptions.

The passenger side door was unlocked, and Scabior couldn't resist opening it and having a look inside. Once he figured out how to open the door, that is.

"What the hell is thing?" asked Greyback. He ran a hand along the hood of the car, down towards a small silver hood ornament that was shaped like a howling wolf.

"It's called a cartomobile, Greyback," said Scabior. "Muggles use them instead of brooms to get around."

The head Snatcher was bent over with his rear end sticking out of the doorway on the passenger side, rifling through some bags he found tucked under the driver seat.

"I don't really like these things," he continued. "Being confined in a small space like this makes me claustrophobic. But you can usually find some good stuff in 'ere. So it's worth taking a look inside."

Greyback raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Scabior's rear end sticking out of the doorway. Hearing him talk about being claustrophobic made him want to shove Scabior inside the car, lock the door and run. But he thought better of it, knowing that he'd most likely end up on the receiving end of Scabior's Cruciatus curse if he tried it.

His attention returned to the silver wolf hood ornament. It had gleaming red eyes that appeared to be made from either rubies or garnets. He was fascinated by the miniature wolf. It was finely crafted with such realistic detail that it looked like it could come to life and spring from the hood of the car.

"Scabior, do mudbloods usually mount wolves on cartomobiles?"

"Why?" Scabior asked, grinning up at him from beneath the windshield. "You want to try shagging one of the females we snatched on the roof of this thing?"

"No, I mean this thing!" said Greyback, pointing at the hood ornament.

"Well I can't see tha from in 'ere, now can I? Oh, look wha we 'ave 'ere!" Scabior emerged from the car with a purse.

He emptied the contents of the purse onto the ground. One of the items that spilled out of the purse was a long silver necklace.

The necklace was rather large and heavy, its thick links woven together so that they resembled a silver chain.

Scabior held the necklace out to Greyback. "Do you want this? I already 'ave my scarf. An I don't fancy the thought of wearing a lot of jewelry."

"Sure, I'll take it," Greyback replied.

Scabior tossed him the necklace and went back to rummaging around in the car.

Greyback looked at the necklace in his hand. It looked like it was just the right size for him. And then it hit him. He knew just what to do with the silver necklace.

He went back to the wolf hood ornament and tore it off the hood of the car. He affixed the hood ornament to the oversized necklace with a permanent sticking charm. It made the perfect pendant for his new necklace.


	18. Ribbon

**Prompt 18 - Ribbon**

When Scabior braided his hair and tied it back in a ponytail, he often tied his hair back using a black ribbon. But few people knew the meaning behind the ribbon he wore in his hair.

The ribbon was hers, the first and only woman Scabior ever loved. He'd had relationships with other women, mostly one night stands. But she was special. She was the only one who had ever truly captured his heart.

She was a Death Eater by the name of Vanessa Corvus. She was a pretty young lady, with long black hair that had a blue streak running down the side. She was intelligent, she was strong. She was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman.

He met her several years ago when the Dark Lord was just beginning to gather his followers. They began their journey together, both Scabior and Vanessa, both of them newcomers amongst the Dark Lord's ranks, and in time their love for each other began to grow.

Whenever Scabior had a rough day, she was there for him. She often sat down behind him on the bed, rubbing and massaging his back and shoulders, as he drank from a bottle of his favorite cinnamon fireball whiskey. It was a pleasant way to relax and unwind after a long day.

However there were times when her touch did more than relax him. The feel of her fingers on his flesh did more than soothe the pain of a long, stressful day. They inflamed his heart and sent lustful waves of surging passion through his loins.

And those ribbons. She always kept her long hair tied back with those long, green, blue and black silk ribbons.

He remembered leaning over her in bed one night, tugging the ribbons from her hair and tossing them aside, where they joined the rest of their discarded clothes on the floor. Her raven colored hair fanned out across the pillow, and he ran his fingers through it, smelling it, touching it, caressing her soft, beautiful hair.

That night they made love together. Lost in each other, the world outside their bedroom fell away, dissolving into nothingness. It wasn't until the next morning that the harsh reality of the world's existence set in, for never again would Scabior spend another night with her.

When morning came, Voldemort sent Vanessa out on a misssion with a group of newly recruited Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy was among the group sent out that morning. He was the one who gave Scabior the bad news.

"I'm sorry, Scabior. The Aurors came, and we could not escape in time."

"Where is she?" Scabior demanded. "Wha 'appened to 'er?"

Lucius hesitated. He didn't know if he could bring himself to tell Scabior the truth, for he knew that Scabior would be devastated when he found out what had happened to her.

The blond aristocrat reached into his pocket and took out Vanessa's black ribbon.

"She's dead, Scabior," said Lucius, holding the ribbon out to him. "This is all that's left of her."

His words struck Scabior like a direct blow to the heart, shattering it into a hundred broken pieces. He felt tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, his mouth opening slightly as he stared at the silk ribbon in disbelief.

"She's...she's dead?" Scabior said at length, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. Even now the words sounded surreal, as if they couldn't possibly be true.

Scabior kept Vanessa's ribbon, and wore it in his hair as a way of keeping her memory alive. He never forgot her. And this was why he refused to love again until after the war was over, because he couldn't stand to lose someone the way he had lost her.


	19. Flower

**Prompt 19 - Flower**

Living in the forest meant that Scabior was surrounded by the beauty of nature. There were lush green trees rising high into the air, crystal clear streams that slowly trickled and wound their way through the woods, and shady spots beneath the trees where cool, moss covered rocks welcomed anyone who wanted to sit down and rest a bit. But the thing Scabior loved most was the flowers.

Wildflowers and clumps of lavender dotted the landscape. He was particularly fond of the smell of lavender, and had once camped out near a field of lavender, just so he could enjoy the fragrance of the delicate purple flowers.

Every time the wind blew on those warm summer evenings, the soothing scent of lavender drifted in through the opening of his tent. The fragrance filled his tent at night, and helped Scabior relax and fall asleep. But there was one type of flower that Scabior liked the most. A flower known as scabiosa.

The flower came in a variety of colors, ranging from white to yellow, blue, red, rose, maroon, and dark purple. Scabior was particulary fond of the red variety, for they matched the streak in his hair.

His mother named him after scabiosa when he was born. It was her favorite, and she had a beautiful garden full of bright red scabiosa in her front yard.

When he was little, Scabior liked to sit outside in the sun, watching the butterflies as they flitted from flower to flower. Sometimes he would chase after them, running through his mother's flower garden, laughing and trying to catch the brightly colored insects.

Someday, when the war was over and things settled down again, Scabior wanted to own a house in the country. Somewhere nice where he could plant a garden of lavender and scabiosa.

Just because he was a Snatcher didn't mean that he didn't have hopes and dreams of his own. If he couldn't realize his dream of becoming a famous musician, then he'd aim for something a bit more practical. A house with a garden wasn't asking much. And maybe a guitar he could play while sitting on the porch admiring his beautiful garden.


	20. Wicked

**Prompt 20 - Wicked**

Muggles had some very strange misconceptions about witches. The classic "wicked witch" persona was a good example of this, and usually consisted of a witch with green skin, a pointed hat, wild flyaway hair, and a wart on her nose.

"Tha's absurd," said Scabior. "Where do they come up with this stuff?"

"Maybe some muggle caught a glimpse of your grandmother when she had dragon pox," said Greyback. "Her face was pretty green and bumpy."

"Tha's not funny!" said Scabior as Greyback started laughing. "She 'ad a serious medical condition."

"Bellatrix then," said Greyback. "She's certainly a wicked witch."

"You mean a wicked bitch?" Scabior queried, raising a bottle of firewhiskey to his lips and taking a sip.

"Yeah. And it was probably her green, hairy, wart covered arse someone saw that started muggles thinking that all witches look like that."

Scabior snorted and firewhiskey shot out of his nose. Greyback laughed as Scabior doubled over, watching as the head Snatcher leaned forward as booze poured from his nostrils.

"It's not funny!" Scabior spat in annoyance. His sinuses and the roof of his mouth were burning from the alcohol he'd expelled from his nose.

Greyback continued to howl with laughter as Scabior pulled out a handkerchief and loudly blew his nose.

Another misconception muggles had regarding witches and the term "wicked" was that witches were, in some way, wicked or evil. For centuries muggles were convinced that anyone who was capable of using magic was evil, that all forms of witchcraft and wizardry were the work of the devil.

"But we're not wicked, are we?" asked Scabior, wiping his streaming nose with the handkerchief.

A wide grin spread across Greyback's face, exposing his yellowed fangs. "Well, maybe just a little."

"No, you are not wicked, Greyback. You are a wild animal. There's a difference."

Greyback laughed, a truly twisted, demented laugh that hinted at the madness within. "Yes, I am an animal," he said. "But I'm so much more than that. Wicked doesn't even begin to describe me."


	21. Stowaway

**Prompt 21 - Stowaway**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now get in there an be quiet before someone sees you."

"But Scabior - " Lucius never got to finish his sentence. Scabior shoved his head under a mound of sweaty, smelly clothes, cutting him off in mid-sentence.

Scabior had the brilliant idea to stowaway in the laundry hamper, so that when they were wheeled into the girl's changing room, they could watch the women undressing and changing out of their soiled Quidditch uniforms.

"If we get caught, we'll be given detention every day for a month," said Lucius, his nose poking out from beneath a pair of pants.

"You want to see Narcissa in 'er nickers, don't you?" Scabior asked.

"Yes, but - "

"Then quit complaining an be quiet."

They waited quietly in the laundry hamper, with Lucius fidgeting nervously beside Scabior. Several minutes passed before someone came and took them away, wheeling them into the girl's changing room.

Scabior watched through a small hole in the side of the hamper, the women outside changing out of their Quidditch uniforms and tossing their sweat stained garments in the hamper on top of the two boys.

"There she is," Scabior whispered, elbowing Lucius in the side. "It's Narcissa. Look." He scooted off to the side, letting Lucius take a look through the peephole in the hamper.

Lucius watched as Narcissa took off her clothes, revealing a powder blue bra and matching knickers. His heart began to race, his palms sweaty and his mouth dry.

She bent over to take off her shoes, giving Lucius a close up view of her breasts as she sat down on a bench next to the hamper. Lucius felt so overwhelmed at seeing his first pair of breasts that his eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted.

Scabior signed and shook his head. Apparently the other boys in school weren't quite as experienced as he was.


	22. Life

**Prompt 22 - life**

Life was a precious thing. And despite what most people thought about him, Scabior didn't fancy the thought of taking someone's life if he didn't have to.

He'd seen more than enough death in his line of work, and he was disgusted by some of the more gruesome acts of mindless violence and murder that he'd witnessed. He'd seen the way Greyback would savagely dismember people before treating them as his own personal chew toy, the way Bellatrix would stand there laughing, covered in blood as she slaughtered entire families.

Scabior had no desire to murder people the way they did. Especially not after losing Vanessa. Her life was precious to him. And if he'd been given the chance, he might have considered settling down with her after the war ended.

He could have gotten married and had a family one day. Scabior thought about these things when he was with Vanessa, but knew that it would be risky to start a family during dark times such as these.

Every new life that was brought into the world was a blessing. But the world was at war, and lives were being lost every day. A child born now might not live to see their first birthday. If Scabior had a child, he would want his child to live their life to the fullest, to not only survive but thrive and be happy. But that kind of happiness wasn't easy to come by. Not when people were being murdered like rats in the street, entire familes destroyed overnight while their friends were left to mourn their passing.

Life, it seemed, was in short supply. Time was always running out for each and every person that he passed, moving faster towards its inevitable destruction. And all Scabior had to remind himself of the life that had been taken from him was a length of black ribbon.

Her life, the life of the woman he loved and the life they had together, her memory and her spirit lived on in this this strip of material. It was all he had left of her. It taught him to value life rather than carelessly throwing it away, and it kept him from becoming like his fellow Snatchers and Death Eaters. He wouldn't throw away someone's life. Not when he knew how it felt to lose someone who was precious to him.


	23. Milestone

**Prompt 23 - milestone**

_Special thanks to Anna Fay who helped give me the inspiration to write this._

Every witch and wizard looked forward to the day when they earned their Apparition license, and Scabior was no exception. He'd been looking forward to the final exam for weeks now, knowing that once it was complete he would be handed his license, as well as his freedom to travel, all rolled up in one single sheet of parchment.

The exam involved a set of three milestones set five, ten and fifty miles apart. Each person had to stand at the starting point and Apparate to each milestone, starting with the five mile stone and working their way up to fifty.

When it came time for Scabior to take his turn, he reached the five mile point easily enough, and was able to land right beside it on his first try. The second milestone was a bit more difficult, and it took him three tries to reach his goal.

Scabior knew he really had to concentrate in order to reach the last milestone. He was only allowed to miss so many times before he failed the exam. He focused his thoughts on the last milestone, visualizing it in his mind as he prepared to Apparate, then took a deep breath and vanished. Within seconds he felt the familiar sensation of tightness closing around his chest, followed by a sharp pain nearly split his skull in two.

The next day he woke up in the school infirmary with a mild concussion. He'd reached the last milestone on his first try, but miscalculated and ended up hitting the stone head first, knocking himself out. The witch who was in charge of the exam said that since he reached his target, she couldn't fail him. Scabior just needed to try again when he recovered to prove that he could do it without injuring himself.

.oOo.

"So this is where you knocked yourself out trying to pass your Apparition test," said Greyback, looking up at the large boulder.

"Yep, this is it." Scabior patted the rock with his gloved hand. "I passed the exam on the second try. Or so I've been told. I don't really 'ave any memory of it. All I know is tha, at some point in time, I was 'anded my license an then four weeks later I graduated. Although now tha I stop to think it, I don't remember much of my seventh year. Or my middle name. But tha's life I suppose. You get old an you start to forget things."


	24. Member

**Prompt 24 - member**

Ever since he was a boy Scabior enjoyed playing Gobstones. When he was little he used to compete with his friends, challenging each other to a game of Gobstones every afternoon. They would while away the hours playing their favorite game, until their games became an annual contest held during the warm summer months when it was too hot to go outside and play.

Year after year they would hold their own private contests in Scabior's backyard, relaxing in the shade of the old apple tree, until his love of Gobstones grew into something more than just a means for passing the time during the summer months. He wanted something more than backyard competitions with his friends. And so when he was old enough to attend school, Scabior became a member of the Gobstones Club, and took part in the competitions they held at school.

With all the years of practice he had playing in his back yard, Scabior excelled in the school competitions, and was often seen leaving the Gobstones Club with an arm load of prizes, which usually consisted of chocolate frogs, ice mice, cauldron cakes, and other tasty treats. But although he was quite skilled at the game, he still lost every now and then, and would walk away with red, blue and yellow streaks in his hair, left behind when the little stones spewed colored liquid in his face.

He was quite fond of the colored streaks in his hair. Sometimes he would spend several minutes admiring his reflection in the mirrior, gazing at the crimson strands that blended perfectly with the dark brown hues. One day he would use a spell to seal in the color, leaving his hair forever streaked with gorgeous red highlights.


	25. Guitar

**Prompt 25 - guitar**

The strings on his guitar were old and worn, and when he tried to play it one of the strings snapped, flying back and whipping him across the face.

"Dammit!" Scabior swore, clapping a hand over his left cheek. A single drop of blood trickled down his face, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand before drawing his wand and using it to repair his guitar.

"Poor thing. You've seen better years, 'aven't you?" He ran his fingers over the peeling paint on the side of his guitar. There was a simple line drawing on the front of it, showing a wolf howling at the moon. The image had faded over the years until it was barely visible. But Scabior still loved this faded remnant of his younger days when he was free to roam the countryside, serenading young women with his songs of passionate lust.

Scabior sung the most beautiful love songs, songs that would make the ladies swoon whenever they heard his voice. He was a talented musician, and would hold private concerts for his friends at school. When he got older, he would play for the men in his group as they sat around the campfire at night. The sound of music helped lift their spirits and improved morale. However the songs he sung when in the company of his men were different than the ones he sung when he was alone with the ladies.

He dusted off his old guitar, tuned it up a bit, then looked at his men and grinned. "Alright everyone. You ready for another song from Scabior's greatest 'its album?"

His men laughed and cheered. Even Greyback managed a small smile as Scabior prepared to sing one of his crude songs.

The head Snatcher sat up straight, strummed a few notes on his guitar, and began to sing.

"I lost my glove in Bella's black 'ole.  
It smelled really bad an was covered with mold.  
There were barnacles growing on every crevasse.  
It still smelled much nicer than 'er dirty arse."

Laughter erupted from the men sitting around the fire. Greyback chuckled and rolled his eyes, shaking his head as Scabior started singing another song.

"My body lies over the ocean,  
My body lies over the sea,  
My body lies over the toilet  
Because I drank too much Firewhiskey!"

Scabior mimed throwing up into the campfire, which received a round of applause and more laughter from his men.

Greyback smiled and shook his head. It wasn't much, but it was entertaining. And Scabior's crude songs were always good for a laugh.


	26. Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedication - this was written for my mother, and was based on my own real life experience when I went looking for a gift for her for Mother's Day.

**Prompt 26 - mother**

Scabior wandered through the musty garage, eyeing the cardboard boxes that lined the tables and shelves. There were books, candles, glass jars filled with coral and sea shells, a stuffed teddy bear, old Christmas decorations, and an assortment of bizarre objects he'd never seen before, such as DVDs and power tools.

He picked up a box of batteries and turned them over in his hands. He didn't know what they were, but he was pretty sure his mother didn't want them as a gift.

"Don't look at the prices," a woman said as he walked into the garage. "Those are wrong." She looked at the objects on the table, then glanced at the plastic bag in Scabior's hand. "Fill a bag for a buck," she said.

Scabior tried to look like he knew what a "buck" meant. The first thing that entered his mind was a male deer, though he seriously doubted that he was supposed to pay in animals.

"I'm serious," the woman said, seeing his confused expression and mistaking it for disbelief. "All you can fit in a bag for a dollar."

"Right," said Scabior. And he continued looking through the items on the tables and shelves.

These muggle estate sales were good places to find old junk lying around that he could bring to Lucius, for Lucius had a habit of charming muggle artifacts then leaving them on people's doorsteps when he was bored. He thought it was funny to trick muggles into using lawnmowers that mowed everything but the lawn, and if anyone at the Ministry discovered that Lucius was behind the biting teapot incident, the blond aristocrat would be in a lot of trouble.

The only problem was that Scabior had a hard time paying for the items at the estate sale. He didn't know much about muggle currency, so he usually overpaid just to be safe, and insisted that they keep the change. It was like this at yard sales, too. The Snatcher pocketed small items he could sneak off with, then tossed a wad of bills at whoever was in charge and left.

While he was looking through the items on the table, Scabior spied a unicorn-shaped planter sitting in the corner on a shelf. It was a bit dirty, but it was in perfect shape and only cost two dollars. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. "I bet mum would like this," he mused. "She 'asn't 'ad anything new to add to 'er unicorn collection in years."

He finished stuffing his bag with as much as it could hold, then dug through his wallet for what he hoped was the right amount of money. Scabior ended up overpaying the woman who was in charge, and as usual, he told her she could keep the change, then left before she had a chance to argue about it. He took the bag of goodies home, dumped them on the bed, then picked up the unicorn planter and took it to his mother.

Temperance was surprised to see Scabior on her doorstep, holding a unicorn that had a small, green fern tucked in it. He smiled and held out the unicorn.

"''Appy mother's day. I bought this just for you."

"Oh, Scabior, it's beautiful!" Temperance wrapped her arms around him, hugging him and thanking him for the wonderful gift.

She put the unicorn on the kitchen table, next to a vase of roses. The little unicorn looked lovely next to the blooming bouquet of roses, and Scabior was happy because he had found his mother the perfect Mother's Day gift.


	27. Magazine

**Prompt 27 - magazine**

The Wizarding world had its share of dirty magazines just like the muggle world. Some of the more common ones were _Play Witch_ and _Crystal Balls Monthly_. Even the Ministry of Magic decided to print a limited edition series featuring its workers in the nude. But first they needed to find people who were willing to pose for their magazine.

Lucius and Scabior were the first to volunteer. When asked what sort of set design, props, and optional clothing they wanted, Lucius replied with an airy, self-important sniff, "I would like to be photographed wearing a black designer robe with an emerald snake broach, a glass of wine in my hand, and some ribbons in my gorgeous hair."

Scabior rolled his eyes at him. "I wanna be butt naked on a tiger skin rug, surrounded by equally naked ladies of the night. I will wear nothing but a medallion bearing my own face."

Lucius wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Really, Scabior? You can't have a single shred of clothing or dignity?"

"Dignity my arse," Scabior snorted. "Wha kind of dirty magazine doesn't 'ave nudity in it? You think it makes things classier just because you've got your bare arse covered with nothing but a robe? I'm sure that'll make it so much better when your wife finds out." He started laughing and Lucius seized him by his scarf, almost choking him as he tugged on the plaid material.

"If you ever tell my wife about this, I'll make sure you don't have anything to display for the photoshoot. Is that clear?"

"Yes. Absolutely." Scabior nodded, and Lucius released him.

When the magazines were released to the public, Scabior was first in line to purchase a copy and see how the pictures turned out. He also bought a copy of the ladies version, so he could take it home and admire it, if you will. Everything was going fine until he discovered a nude picture of Umbridge on page forty-five, which caused him to scream and throw the magazine across the room.

He waved his wand at the magazine, causing it to burst into flames. The poor man was traumatized by the horrific images he'd seen, though not nearly as horrified as the Minister of Magic, who had been blindfolded, tied up, and was being spanked by Umbridge like a disobedient little boy.


	28. Moving

**Prompt 28 - moving**

They told him not to move. They told him it would all be over in a second, and then he would be allowed to leave. But from the moment he laid eyes on her he knew there was no easy way out of this, and that she would most likely keep him there until she was satisfied that she'd gotten what she wanted.

At first it was just a tiny pinprick, a light sensation of pain just above his shoulder. Then another and another, until he was squirming and fidgeting, trying to wriggle out of the tight material that made it almost impossible for him to move.

"Scabior, would you please sit still? If you keep moving around like that, we're going to be here forever."

The lynx meowed pitifully and hung his head. Why had he volunteered to be Narcissa's model while she tried on various sweaters and clothes for her cat? It was humiliating, being covered in velvet, ribbons and lace, and poked with pins as she adjusted the length of the material. Why couldn't she get the house elf to do this instead? He knew how large that overgrown tabby was. If that cat got any bigger he would start hunting the house elves like mice.

"There. All done." Narcissa held up a mirror for Scabior to see his reflection. "You're positively gorgeous, Scabior."

The Snatcher took one look at his reflection and fainted.

Narcissa looked down at the unconscious bundle of lace and fur. She clapped her hands together and smiled. "He likes it!" she exclaimed cheerfully, then summoned a house elf and ordered it to start sewing the sweater for her darling pet.


	29. Crazy

**Prompt 29 - crazy**

"If it weren't for your interest in my sister, I'd swear you have terrible taste in women."

If Scabior heard that once, he'd heard it a thousand times. Not that he needed a reminder from his girlfriend. The scars left behind from Bellatrix's whip were more than enough to remind him of her insanity. Unfortunately, Bellatrix wasn't the only woman he'd dated that was a bit on the wild side. His previous girlfriend had resorted to stalking him after Scabior prematurely ended their relationship. She even went so far as to kidnap one of his men, then left him tied up in an alley wearing nothing but his underwear, with her name carved into his chest in big, bold, bleeding letters.

And then there was the time he woke up to find another one of his crazed ex-girlfriends in his back yard, sunning herself on the porch. When he asked her why she was here, she told him that she was pregnant with twins, and that he was the father of one of her twins. Scabior quickly sent Hermione packing, telling her to go back to Ron and that he had no desire to raise whichever twin she thought was his. Their relationship had never been anything more than a one-sided failure anyway. She thought he loved her because he'd fondled her hair and referred to her as "my lovely", and was crushed when he told her that he called all women that.

"I don't 'ave terrible taste in women," said Scabior. "I just 'ave really bad luck. 'Ow was I supposed to know they were mad when I first met them?"

"Oh, I don't know," his girlfriend remarked sarcastically. "Perhaps the name Bellatrix Lestrange might have been enough to clue you in."

"One time," he said, holding up a finger. "One time I knew in advance, I'll give you tha, pet. But the others were nothing more than bad luck. It didn't 'appen tha often anyway."

"What about that woman who wanted to dress you like a baby and bottle feed you?"

"Tha wouldn't 'ave been so bad if she wanted to breast feed me instead..."

"Or the one who swore you were the reincarnation of her pet rabbit that died when she was five."

"I got free carrots from 'er."

Scabior's girlfriend sighed. "Face it, Scabior. Almost every woman you've ever gone out with was crazy. And _we're_ not much better."


	30. Shiny

**Prompt 30 - shiny**

There was more to being a Snatcher than just kidnapping people for profit. Of course the money was always important, and the women. Money was needed to pay for alcohol and prostitutes. Because if there was one thing Scabior loved it was sex, money and women. Enough women to keep him satisfied every night of the week. But there was also the thrill of the hunt, of chasing people through the woods, and the occasional treat when Scabior's efforts were rewarded with something special.

One morning he was given the key to a vault in Gringotts shortly after bringing in a young mudblood by the name of Michael Douglass. Scabior was just about to leave when Umbridge tapped him on the back and stuffed the key in his gloved hand. She explained that Michael owned a vault in Gringotts, and now that he was going to be imprisoned in Azkaban Scabior and his men were welcome to the vault and all the treasures it contained.

"Which shouldn't amount to much considering his blood status," said Umbridge.

"Right," said Scabior, taking the key and stuffing it in his pocket. She was probably right about there being nothing of value in the vault, which was probably the reason why they gave him the key in the first place. Still, it was worth a look around to see if there was anything useful in the vault.

He took Greyback with him when he went to explore the vault, and was surprised when the werewolf said he smelled gold inside.

"Wha do you mean you smell gold?" asked Scabior. "Gold doesn't 'ave a scent."

"Of course it does," Greyback insisted. "Everything has a scent. And I'm telling you there's gold in that vault, Scabior. Loads of it."

Scabior scoffed at the notion of this mudblood owning vast amounts of gold. He turned the key in the lock, the door swung open, and sure enough there was gold, jewels and a mountain of other shiny treasures.

Greyback howled and dove into the nearest mound of gold, scattering coins in every direction.

"Wha the bloody 'ell is all this?" asked Scabior, staring in confusion at the small fortune in front of him.

Greyback's head poked out of a pile of coins. "You don't know who Michael is, do you, Scabior?" he said, smirking at the head Snatcher. "That guy was into all kinds of shit he shouldn't have been. Used to steal from all the wealthy purebloods and store everything in his vault. Hell, I bet you could find some of Lucius' belongings in here."

"An 'ow did he do tha? I find it 'ard to believe tha some mudblood could steal from purebloods."

Greyback shrugged. "He had his ways. Most of 'em were like you and didn't think he was capable of robbing purebloods. It made them vulnerable. They doubted his abilities, and this is what happened when they let their guard down," he said, motioning with a wave of his hand to the piles of gold.

Scabior walked into the vault, shaking his head as he gazed at the mounds of gold and jewels. He wasn't rich, not when you took into consideration the men he'd have to share this with. But it was enough to keep him swimming in women and booze for quite some time.

"Hey, hey Scabior, check this out." Greyback had layered more than half a dozen gold chains around his neck, and was sporting several rings on his grimy fingers. "I pity da fool who screw with wolf man on da night of dey full moon." He then threw his head back and howled.

Scabior rolled his eyes. "Tha's it. No more muggle picture box for you. An you are not walking out of 'ere looking like tha."

Greyback fell over on his back in the mound of gold. He laughed at Scabior's reaction, then started making snow angels in the coins. He'd show him. He was going to walk out wearing all that gold and the ladies were going to love his new look.


	31. Style

**Prompt 31 - style**

Scabior wanted to die of embarrassment as he walked down the street next to Greyback, who was still wearing layers of gold chains around his neck. They were quite a sight, Scabior in his worn leather jacket, plaid pants, and ragged scarf, and Greyback looking like some kind of underground werewolf pimp.

"Give me tha," said Scabior, snatching the cane out of Greyback's clawed hand. "You look ridiculous."

"Naw, man. I got style," said Greyback.

"You look like an idiot." Scabior frowned as Greyback laughed at his comment. He'd had enough of this pimped out werewolf, and decided to take some of the gold they found in the vault and leave.

He apparated to a pub several streets over, leaving the werewolf in the dust as he walked into the building and dumped the bag of gold down on the counter. The sound of all that gold jingling in the heavy sack drew the attention of two women in the corner of the pub. They eyed the sack of gold, then looked him over as he smiled and winked at them.

'Ello beau'iful," said Scabior, throwing out his famous catchphrase at the pair of lovely ladies. "'Ow would you like to spend the evening with me? There's plenty of me to go around, if you know wha I mean."

They considered him for a moment, and were about to walk over and join him at the bar when Greyback walked in, gold chains and all. He sauntered up to the bar and plopped down next to Scabior.

"S'up, dawg," said Greyback, nodding in Scabior's general direction.

Scabior's mouth dropped open in shock.

The women in the corner giggled and grinned, waving at Greyback who motioned for them to come over. They took a seat on either side of him, because like it or not the werewolf had style. Loads of his, with his gold chains and diamond rings glinting in the sunlight.

"Fine then," said Scabior once he had gotten over the shock of seeing the werewolf surrounded by beautiful women. He took his gold and left the pub. Greyback could drown in those women for all he cared, because he had style all his own, and he didn't need all that fancy gold and jewelry to lure the ladies to his doorstep.


	32. Makeup

**Prompt 32 - makeup**

Unlike the other men in his band of Snatchers, Scabior cared about his appearance and tried making himself look halfway decent. Most of the time. There were days when he was so hungover and sick that he did good just to clean the vomit off his shirt before heading out in the morning. Sometimes he skipped combing his hair. But no matter how sick, hungover or exhausted he was, Scabior always remembered to put his makeup on in the morning.

Scabior never left his tent without first applying a fresh layer of eyeliner. This lead to some rather humorous moments when he was so drunk that he couldn't put his makeup on straight, and ended up with smudged eyeliner spread from ear to ear like a raccoon. His men laughed as he stumbled out of his tent, his face covered with black streaks and smudges.

"Looking good there, Scabior," said Greyback, grinning and clapping him on the back.

The head Snatcher blinked in confusion, looking around at the smiling, laughing faces that surrounded him. "Of course I look good," he slurred. "When 'aven't I looked good? Why, I'm the sexiest Snatcher in these 'ere woods. Damn sexy." He nodded, a simpering smile on his face.

"Uh, Scabior, you didn't drink your breakfast again, did you?"

"No." Scabior hiccupped. "Wha makes you say tha? Well, yes, I might 'ave 'ad a sip or two. Or nine."

Greyback laughed, his hands on his knees as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Wha? Wha's so funny?" Scabior asked.

"Someone get this poor bastard a mirror!" Greyback exclaimed, still howling with laughter as Ranca conjured a mirror and thrust it under Scabior's nose.

The head Snatcher stared at his reflection, going cross-eyed as he tried to figure out what everyone was laughing about. "Everything looks fine to me," he said before falling over backwards and passing out in the dirt.

This caused a renewed fit of laughter from the group of men sitting around the campfire.

"Somebody get his eyeliner!" Morvin cried. "Let's draw on 'im while 'e's passed out!"

A cheer arose from the group, and Silis ran into Scabior's tent, emerging a minute later with his master's eyeliner.

"If Scabior thinks he looks good now, he's going to look really good when he wakes up," said Greyback.


	33. Smoke

**Prompt 33 - smoke**

Smoke was rising in the night sky, blanketing the hillside as amber flames danced on the horizon. You could see the fire from a distance, the forest alight with the flames of war, burning brightly in the night. It was the same, age old war that began over a decade ago, the forces of good and evil clashing in a decisive battle that would decide the fate of the wizarding world.

Scabior looked up at the glowing embers, watching them drift on the wind as ash rained down from the sky. The spires of smoke were so thick he could barely see the castle. Only the crumbling turrets were visible above the smoke, their darkened silhouettes standing out against a sky full of glittering stars.

He was glad to be away from it, his body submerged in water from the chest down. He survived the bridge collapse by landing in the water beneath the bridge. He was now floating downstream, clinging to a piece of wood from the broken bridge. The screams had begun to fade as he drifted father away from the chaos. And yet the sounds and images still lingered in his mind, their tortured cries ringing in his ears.

Years from now, long after the war had ended, he would still see the smoke whenever he closed his eyes. Their voices would forever haunt his dreams, making him realize that there were no winners in war. Everyone, including those that fought for the light side, would remember this night for the rest of their lives.

They had lost something precious in the war. Some had lost friends and loved ones, children, relatives and parents. But the one thing they all lost was their innocence, their ability to sleep at night without hearing the screams of war echoing in their minds. They were broken by the horrors they had witnessed, and none of them would ever be the same.


	34. Tell

**Prompt 34 - tell**

It was a warm summer night. The stars were shining, the crickets were busy singing their song to the evening skies above, and Scabior and his men were sitting around the campfire, laughing, drinking and telling each other jokes and stories to pass the time.

Scabior had a crude sense of humor, and could take just about anything and turn it into a dirty joke. But it didn't stop there. Because once he got his men laughing he kept at it, entertaining them with own unique brand of insult comedy long into the late hours of the night. He did this because he loved to entertain people, and as a leader of a group of wild and unruly men, he had to know how to raise morale and keep everyone in a good mood. And no matter what he did, be it singing, playing his guitar, telling stories or dirty jokes, Scabior never failed to put a smile on their faces and make them laugh.

"Let me tell you the story of 'ow I lost my other glove," Scabior began, his men gathering around him as he began his story. "I used to 'ave two gloves. But a couple years ago I 'ad a brief relationship with Bellatrix Lestrange, an it was during tha time tha I lost one of my gloves.

"Now let me start by telling you tha you should never, under any circumstances, ever go to bed with 'er. When she spreads 'er legs, tha thing down there sucks up everything tha comes in contact with it. Sorta like a black 'ole. An like a black 'ole, anything tha gets trapped in there is never seen again.

"Tha's 'ow I lost my glove. Got sucked into 'er black 'ole, it did. I 'ad to climb in there an try to rescue the poor thing. An wha did I find on the other side of 'er black 'ole? A great big mountain of socks. But they weren't just any old socks. You know 'ow when you do the laundry one of your socks usually goes missing? Usually the left one. Well, this pile of socks was made from all the missing socks that anyone ever lost. I found where all the missing left socks in the universe go!

"So there I was, surrounded by two cubic tons of sticking socks. I tried to escape with my glove, but I couldn't. I barely escaped with my life. 'Ad to leave the poor glove be'ind, I did. I was actually trapped in there for three months. An there's more down there than just socks. There wws giant, man eating 'eads of cabbage. 'Ave to eat them before they eat you, you know.

"I spent months 'unting them down, snatching them, roasting an eating them. The only problem is tha they gave me gas. Which was alright because it 'elped freshen up the air down there.

"So tha's 'ow it 'appened. I lost my glove in Bella's black 'ole. I suppose the Dark Lord probably lost 'is nose in there. But tha's wha 'appens when you go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."


	35. Fight

**Prompt 35 - fight**

It wasn't unusual for Scabior to get into fights. Sometimes he got drunk and fought with people in the pub. Sometimes it was over women, usually because their boyfriend came home and caught them in bed with Scabior. And sometimes trouble seemed to find him in the most unexpected places.

It began one night when he was stalking a pair of muggleborns through the woods. He picked up their trail earlier that evening, following their scent until he came to a small campsite in a secluded part of the forest.

Scabior peered out from between the bushes. Some of the overhanging branches brushed against his fur, and he flicked his ear as a leafy branch poked him in the side of the head. He'd had a difficult time tracking these muggleborns, and after two weeks of searching had decided to use his animagus form to help him find the band of teenagers.

It was easier to track someone through the dense woodlands when he was a lynx. His mottled coat helped him hide in the leaves, his paws moving silently and swiftly through the grass as he ran. He blended seamlessly with his surroundings, and could easily pick up the scent of humans in the woods. Sure, he could have Greyback hunt them down using his enhanced sense of smell, but why send a werewolf to do something that he was perfectly capable of doing on his own?

He started to move forward, creeping through the bushes as he neared the campsite. He was halfway to their campsite when a skunk wandered out in front of him. It spied him crouching in the undergrowth, and needless to say it wasn't pleased to see another animal in its territory.

It tried growling and stamping its feet, hoping its display would be enough to make Scabior leave. But the arrogant lynx simply rolled his eyes and sideswiped the skunk with his paw. He wasn't leaving just because a furry animal had ventured into the campground. He'd been tracking these muggleborns for weeks, and he was determined to stand his ground no matter who or what got in his way.

A fight ensued between Scabior and the angry skunk, and an hour later the head Snatcher walked into the Ministry of Magic, reeking of rotten eggs and garbage. He was wearing a closepin on his nose to prevent the rancid stench from entering his nostrils, and despite the horrid stench surrounding his body, he seemed pleased with himself for successfully snatching his targets.

'Ere they are," said Scabior, dumping the muggleborns on Umbridge's doorstep.

Dolores wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Dear Merlin, what is that horrible smell?" she asked, fanning the air in front of her with her hand.

Scabior grinned. "Tha is the sweet smell of success. Though I do believe I should be getting 'azard pay due to the infestation of skunks that were in the woods where I captured them."

"Fine. Just take your rancid odor and leave."

The Snatcher laughed as Dolores threw an extra large sack of gold at him. She was eager to be rid of him and his horrible stench, and if paying him more to get him to leave was what it took, then so be it. She'd rather be out the extra gold than have him stinking up her office all day.


	36. Post

**Prompt 36 - post**

Sometimes Greyback wondered why he wasn't the leader of the Snatchers. It was peobably because he was a werewolf, and werewolves weren't given titles or high paying jobs in the wizarding world. He should be glad he even has a job in the first place. But after cleaning up Scabior's messes and hauling the drunken Snatcher home when he was too intoxicated to think straight, the least they could do was give him a raise in pay.

And there he was, clinging to a lamp post as if his life depended on it. The head Snatcher had wandered out of the pub at one in the morning, and had gotten lost in the unfamiliar city. As usual it was Greyback who had to hunt him down and haul his drunk ass back to camp.

When he found him Scabior was in the process of making out with the lamp post. He was calling it Fiona, and was kissing and caressing the post as though it were a beautiful woman. He wrapped his arms around the post, giggling as he slid down it and collapsed onto his back.

"Look at 'er, Greyback," he said, his sight swimming as he gazed up at the werewolf that was standing over him. "She's lovely, isn't she?" He hiccupped and laughed, then rolled over on his belly and proceeded to vomit in the gutter.

"Right." Greyback grabbed him by the back of his jacket and hauled him up onto his feet. "She sure is a winner, Scabior. Oh, and by the way, you haven't forgotten about this, have you?" He held up Scabior's plaid scarf, which had fallen off while he was busy fondling the lamp post.

Scabior stared at the worn, ragged scrap of fabric. Suddenly his eyes went wide, and he grabbed the scarf and tucked it behind his back. "No! We can't let Fiona see me with 'er! She doesn't know I 'ave a wife an kids with another woman." He tried tossing his scarf in the street, but a strong wind came up and blew the scarf in his face.

The wind swept scarf wrapped around his face, preventing him from seeing as he flailed about in the street. He stumbled over the curb, getting tangled in the fabric as he fought to remove the plaid scarf.

"Get 'er off me!" Scabior cried. "Bertha, no, I said said off of me! If Fiona sees us like this we're through!"

Greyback sighed and rolled his eyes. He wasn't getting paid enough to do this.


	37. Mail

**Prompt 37 - mail**

Even in the wizarding world people were often flooded with junk mail. Literally. When an owl arrived on your doorstep with a parcel attached to its leg, more often than not it was carrying junk mail. And when the unsuspecting witch or wizard opened the package, they were buried alive in a flood of junk mail.

After numerous complaints were filed about people being buried by junk mail, most businesses in the wizarding world stopped sending their customers an enormous amount of junk. However there were still a few companies that sent out floods of junk mail, and Scabior had a subscription to one of those companies. Not that any of the men in his group knew that, until one morning when Scabior received an innocent looking package from a magazine company.

The head Snatcher made the mistake of opening the package in front of his men, and a flurry of advertisements came shooting out of the package. Hundreds of junk catalogs spewed from the package, until all they could see of him was an arm, a foot, and his nose poking out of the pile of junk mail.

Greyback and his men stared at him.

"You need some help there, Scabior?" asked Greyback.

Scabior's hand twitched, and he sat up slowly, the flood of junk mail sliding off onto the ground.

Silis looked down at the advertisements and saw that they were all for dirty magazines. He picked up one of the advertisements, his eyes going wide as he saw pictures of naked ladies adorning the cover. " _Maiden, Mother and Crone Monthly,"_ he said, reading the title of the advertisement.

Greyback burst out laughing, while Jeremy blushed at the sight of one of the naked pictures that landed at his feet.

"Here, you can keep that, Jeremy," said Greyback, picking up the nude picture and shoving it into his hands. He then clapped him on the back and laughed. "Your first ever naked woman. Have fun with that, Jeremy. And if you need more, Scabior has plenty more where that came from."


	38. Key

**Prompt 38 - key**

It's said that the key to a man's heart is his stomach. Most of the time Scabior would laugh and tell you that anyone who believes that flunked geography. But sometimes his stomach got the better of him, and he was willing to set aside his lustful desires for a while. Though if you really wanted to make him happy, you could combine his two favorite things and meet him in the forest for a deliciously sexy evening.

That's what happend when Scabior met with Vanessa in the woods one evening. She had lust in her eyes, her dark hair falling forward into her face, the thin strands escaping the confines of the ribbons she wore in her hair.

"An wha do we 'ave 'ere, miss Corvus?" said Scabior. He placed his hand under her chin, tilting her head upwards so that she was gazing into his grey-blue eyes.

A smile creased the corner of her lips as he forced her to look at him. "It's your favorite, Scabior. Strawberry swirl. And I used a freezing charm to keep it cold."

His eyebrows rose towards his hairline. "Nice." Scabior nodded with approval. "Now wha exactly do you plan on doing with tha?"

Vanessa giggled and put a hand on his chest, pushing his back against a tree. Moonlight spilled across the features of his face, and he chuckled, allowing her to unzip his vest, revealing his smooth, bare chest. She dipped her hand into the carton of ice cream and began slathering it on his chest.

Scabior gasped at the abrupt change in temperature. He closed his eyes, and a soft moan escaped his lips as he felt her warm breath on his skin, followed by the feel of her tongue as she licked the ice cream off his chest. She then ran her fingers across the surface of the ice cream, letting it coat her fingers before feeding it to him.

The way to his heart was most definitely his stomach, and any other place she covered with sticky sweet ice cream.


	39. Sword

**Prompt 39 - sword**

The Sword of Gryffindor. So that's what Bellatrix had hidden in her vault. Scabior had seen Severus sneak off with it and leave it in a secluded spot in the forest. The Headmaster was going to wait until Potter was close by, then draw him away from the others with his patronus. Or that was the plan before Scabior and Greyback interrupted things.

The head Snatcher darted out from between the trees, running to where Severus had left the sword hidden in the bushes. A wide grin spread across his face as he picked up the ancient sword. He turned it over in his hands, examining it closely as the silver blade glinted in the moonlight.

'Severus should 'ave known better than to leave this out in the middle of the woods," he said. "The forest is Snatcher territory, which means anything left out 'ere in the wilderness belongs to me."

Greyback came forward, cocking his head to the side as he watched the moonlight glinting off the rubies that covered the sword's handle. "What do you think he was planning on doing with it, Scabior?"

Scabior swung the sword, slicing an overhanging tree branch in half. "Don't know. Don't really care either. It's mine now, an I can do wha I want with it." He pretended to stab Greyback, laughing as the werewolf started and jumped back. "En guard, wolf man!"

Greyback snarled and leapt back into the trees. He ripped a branch off one of the trees, then swung it at Scabior, the two of them engaging in a mock sword fight in the middle of the woods. Everything was going fine until the sword slipped from Scabior's grasp and went sailing through the air. They watched the sword disappear into the bushes, landing with a splash several feet away.

Greyback's brow furrowed, a puzzled expression on his face. "Since when is there water in this part of the forest?"

Scabior shrugged. "Dunno." He jerked his thumb towards the bushes where the sword landed. "Let's go 'ave a look."

The werewolf nodded and followed him into the dense undergrowth, dodging spiderwebs and ducking beneath trailing strands of ivy as they made their way through the woods. They came to a pond in the middle of a clearing, its frozen surface broken by the sword that had gone through the ice and landed at the bottom of the pond.

"I think this is what muggles call a hole in one, Scabior."

"Shut up an 'elp me get the sword out of the water."

Greyback backed away from the frozen pond. "Nah, man, I ain't going in there. That shit's colder than a witch's titty in December."

"An 'ow many witches 'ave you known with cold titties?" Scabior asked.

"A few."

Just then a noise cut through the stillness of the cold, night air. They could hear twings snapping as something made its way towards the pond, leaving them no choice but to abandon their treasure in the dark, murky water.


	40. Children

**Prompt 40 - children**

There's a reason why nobody asked Scabior and Greyback to babysit. It's because neither one of them were good with children, and that's putting it mildly. Scabior didn't have the patience necessary for looking after little kids, and Greyback only wanted to eat any child he came in contact with. Which is why it came as a surprise when Scabior arrived at camp one morning carrying a small child.

"She's my niece," Scabior explained. "I 'ave to look after 'er while 'er parents are out of town for the weekend. An I don't want you causing trouble or trying to eat 'er, Greyback."

"Mm-hmm." Greyback wasn't listening. He had torn open the child's baby bag and was chewing on one of her dolls. The doll's legs were dangling from his mouth with saliva dripping from his chin. "Sheevs got some nife sthuff," he said around a mouthful of doll.

Scabior smacked Greyback on the head with a rolled up newspaper. "No! Bad werewolf. Tha's not a chew toy."

Greyback glared at him then spit the doll out. "First you tell me that children aren't chew toys. Then you tell me their stuff isn't for chewing either." He rubbed the spot on the back of his head where Scabior hit him with the newspaper. "I wish you'd make up your mind," he grumbled.

The head Snatcher sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Look, just keep your lips off 'er an 'er belongings. If you can do tha then there shouldn't be any trouble."

"And why did they pick you to watch their kid for the weekend?" asked Greyback, his head cocked to the side like a curious puppy. "We both know you're not good with children. But you know what goes good with children? Barbecue sauce!"

Scabior frowned. This was going to be a long weekend.


	41. Jewelry

**Prompt 41 - jewelry**

Animal charms were popular in the wizarding world, as well as the belief that each animal had a special magical association. These charms were so popular that stores started making jewelry which included a variety of animal charms. There were necklaces with bee charms for attracting business and social opportunities, anklets with lions for courage, snake bracelets for promoting healing, and ladybug pins for wealth. But the one that drew Scabior's attention was the stag ring.

Scabior had heard legends of the Celtic deity Cerunnos, who had the ability to transform himself into a white stag. This fearsome god was lord of the hunt, pursuing his targets with great speed and resiliency. Which meant that it was perfect for someone who made a living chasing muggleborns through the forest.

He bought the ring and wore it while stalking his victims through the woods. When he put it on, Scabior believed he could feel the spirit of Cerunnos coursing through his veins, allowing him to keep up with his targets and snatch them in record time. It wasn't long until he was given permission to form his own band of Snatchers, taking charge of the hunt as he led his men to victory.


	42. Dog

**Prompt 42 - dog**

It was a warm summer night. The fire was crackling, the crickets were singing their song to the heavens, and a pleasant breeze was rustling the treetops. Evey now and then a little, white dog could be seen strolling through the campsite with a bottle of firewhiskey in its mouth.

Scabior found the dog wandering through the forest, its fur matted and covered in mud. According to its name tag, the dog's name was Daisy, and from the looks of it she'd been roaming the woods for quite some time. Maybe she belonged to one of the people he'd snatched, or maybe she had wandered off and gotten lost. There was no way to know for sure. But the dog was perfectly friendly, and the moment he tried to leave she began following him through the woods.

"Now look, sweet'eart, you don't want to get mixed up with someone like me," said Scabior, watching as the little dog twirled in circles chasing her tail. She spun around several times before collapsing on the ground, then gave a cheerful yip and went stumbling through the trees. Scabior chuckled and went after her, picking her up and holding her against his chest. Daisy responded by licking his face, leaving behind a trail of muddy streaks on his face and chin.

He decided to bring her back to camp, where she quickly made herself at home in his tent. But unlike other dogs who dug through his belongings and chewed on his shoes, Daisy was a well behaved little lady. Her previous owner had raised her well, teaching her a few tricks and simple commands. She could balance a ball on her nose, she could sit and roll over. And best of all she could bring him a bottle of firewhiskey when he wanted a drink.

It wasn't long until Scabior had her bringing him drinks every night when he came from work, and the little dog was more than happy to serve her new master. They became best friends, and wherever Scabior went Daisy was sure to follow.


	43. Eleven

**Prompt** **43 - eleven**

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Um, eleven," slurred Scabior, his eyes crossing as he tried counting the number of fingers Greyback was holding up.

Greyback sighed. "Really? Eleven, Scabior?"

"Yes." A simpering smile formed on Scabior's lips.

"And you don't see anything wrong with this picture?"

Scabior leaned forward until he was nearly falling from his bar stool. He squinted at the man's hand then suddenly recoiled in disgust.

"Ew, Greyback, put your pants on! We're in a public setting, for Merlin's sake."

The werewolf was holding up three fingers. But his boss was too drunk to figure that out. He was also too drunk to see that Greyback was fully clothed. But that's a story for another day.


	44. Double

**Prompt 44 - double**

Everyone has their guilty pleasure. It could be anything from a cup of cocoa before bed to having your house elf give you daily foot massages. For Scabior it was ice cream. It didn't matter if it was the middle of winter with snow up past his boots. He always had to have ice cream, rain or shine, summer or winter, any time of the day or night.

He loved it so much that the term "double scoop of ice cream" developed a new meaning. To him it meant leaving two scoops of ice cream for the next person that came along. He saw this as being rather generous, because he could easily finish off the entire thing without so much as a thought for anyone else.

The idea came to him one evening during dinner. Scabior wanted some ice cream for dessert, but he knew his girlfriend would throw a fit if he ate it all.

'Hmm, one scoop or two?' he mused, drumming his fingers on the countertop. He started piling the ice cream in a bowl until the container was almost empty. 'I'll leave two scoops.'

Ever since then "double scoop of ice cream" meant leaving two scoops in the container. Just enough so that he didn't get in trouble for eating it all.


	45. Flat

**Prompt 45 - flat**

Life with Greyback meant dealing with an overabundance of fleas. They infested every inch of the campsite, from the cots they slept on to the clothes they wore, until even their leader found it impossible to escape the barrage of bugs. Not that Greyback seemed to mind. He'd dealt with it for long that he was used to the constant itching and scratching. But Scabior had had enough and decided to take matters into his own hands.

He bought a potion that was supposed to get rid of fleas and forced it down Greyback's throat. The werewolf gagged and tried spitting out the rancid mixture, which resulted in Scabior casting a stunning spell to make him hold still. He waited a few minutes before removing the spell, then quickly backed off in case Greyback decided to have a go at him. But instead of charging at him in a fit of rage, Greyback rolled over in the dirt, his sight swimming as he tried to force himself to his feet.

"Greyback?" Scabior raised an eyebrow, giving him a curious look as he waited for the werewolf to respond. "Are you alright, mate? You look like you're going to be sick."

"I think I need to lay down. Like now, Scabior."

"You're already laying down."

"Then I think I need to melt," Greyback muttered. A groan slipped past his lips, followed by a loud belch that sent the birds fleeing from their nests. "Yeah, I definitely need to melt and be absorbed into the ground. That's how you collapse when you've already collapsed, isn't it?" He then proceeded to drag himself across the forest floor until he reached the nearest tent, crawled inside, and instantly fell asleep.

They thought he would be able to sleep off the side effects of the potion. But as soon as he woke up Greyback transfigured his clothes into a flowery skirt with a matching tank top. He then ran out of the tent saying, "Look everyone! I'm a lady!"

The head Snatcher took one look at him and laughed so hard he nearly rolled off the log and into the campfire. "You can't be a lady!" he said, still rolling in the dirt as Greyback glared at him from across the campsite. "You're too flat chested to be a lady!"

The werewolf looked around and spied a pair of pinecones in the dirt. He scooped them up, stuffed them down his bra and struck a pose like a woman on the catwalk. "There," he said, grinning and looking quite pleased with himself. "Now I'm very much a lady."


End file.
